7:15AM
The two men trudged up the steep hill with their thighs and lungs screaming. They were surrounded by moorland, stretching miles, lit warmly by the sunrise but flushed with icy wind. Neither man had seen the English countryside for a while, and the bracing freshness felt detoxifying.
"It's good to have you back, Brother," James said to his companion, "And it's good to see you smiling."
Sirius nodded, wincing as his legs ached. "Where are we going, Prongs? I know you didn't just drag me out here for the fresh air."
"Get used to the fresh air, Padfoot. Surely you recognise this place."
They were almost at the top of the hill. James, whose plan it was to bring Sirius here upon his return from Australia, was suppressing a grin.
"No," breathed Sirius. "Tell me."
James stayed silent, until they reached the top of the hill. The view of the moors, spectacularly golden and autumnal, was marred by a building. A huge, sprawling manor house of black brick, all turrets and wings, surrounded by manicured gardens and hidden pathways.
Sirius' eyes fell on it, and he squinted at it with vague, clouded recognition.
While they caught their breath, James admired his handiwork. It was the same house it had always been, only now it was charcoal black. Exactly the same, but entirely new.
"Where are we?" Sirius asked after a while. "I think I know that place..."
"You should do. We spent our formative years together there."
Sirius spun round and stared at him. "That's not-"
"Yup."
James' childhood home had remained bolted and desolate since Charlus Potter's death. Had James not accepted the Ministry's years-old proposal for James to claim it last minute, it would have been re-sold. James did not care for the place and had no interest in re-visiting old memories therein, but Sirius had loved the place. And was in need of a wedding present.
"It's turned black..." Sirius observed densely.
"I thought it only proper that the house fit its new name."
"New name?"
"Duh...Black House."
From within a pocket in his cloak, James retrieved a scroll and passed it to Sirius. "She's all yours."
Sirius reached out for the deed in a daze. He swallowed thickly, and looked out over his new home.
James gave his friend a firm pat on the back. "Just don't let your bloody wife paint it purple."
Sirius let out a nervous laugh and shook his head. "I won't. James, this is too much. This house is yours by right..."
"Don't argue. You liked it way more than I ever did."
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11:50AM
Diagon Alley felt narrower, and longer. Lily had started to blush from the heat of watchful eyes even before she flooed there. It seemed that as the anniversary of Voldemort's death approached, people were stirring old gossip up like wind stirred fallen leaves. The presence of a second child, whom people were staring at like a rare new creature in a zoo, felt scandalous. People watched her go, and did not care that she saw them.
Matilda was tied to Lily's chest in a sling, while Harry walked hand-in-hand beside her. While most shoppers in Diagon Alley moved out of her way as they saw her coming, some bumped into her, jostled Harry or tripped over him. It made her nervous for the day Matilda could walk too, and she'd have two little people to potentially lose in a crowd.
Black's Muggle Emporium was still heaving with customers. Families spilled out into the alley carrying yo-yos, slinkies and paper bags full of sweets. Lily wanted to talk to Sirius. She'd even offer to help with serving on the tills if it meant stalling her errands for an hour or two. But he wasn't there. She would have to get on with it.
As she walked down the alley, Lily wondered why on Earth she hadn't invited Andromeda to come with her. What was the likelihood of anyone, especially Bellatrix Lestrange, intercepting an owl flying from Sweden to Austria? Truthfully Lily knew she should have invited Sirius' wife, but it would have felt forced. Too obvious to be casual. There would be a right time for socialising with Isabelle eventually.
This was a secret mission, however. Only the marauders knew of her venture. She knew it was silly to keep it under wraps. If all went well, the entire wizarding public would find out. But it would have to begin with a secret meeting.
It felt seedy to use contacts. But Sirius knew people who worked for Tiger Eye, and had arranged the meeting within ten minutes of Lily's enquiry.
Florean Fortescue's was empty when Lily entered, except for one man. He sat at a two-seater table in the corner of the parlour, a notebook open and a quill levitating at the side of the table. He nodded in greeting at her when she entered, confirming he was who she was meeting.
At first, Lily wasn't sure if he was a man at all. He had purple hair, big dangly earrings and a tight white suit. He was slender, with perfectly chiselled cheek bones and jaw. He looked like a modernist sculpture.
"Mr Jantzen?" Lily inquired.
The man nodded once, slowly, like a mechanical fortune teller on a pier. He raised his arm and clicked his fingers. "Marco? Ice creams for the lady and the boy. Whatever they want is on me."
A dark-haired apron-clad man almost bowed at Jantzen's request, and looked just as humbled in Lily's presence. "What'll it be, Mrs Potter?"
"Coffee, please. And strawberry for my son."
She sat down opposite Jantzen, and let Harry roam the shop. As she faced Mr Jantzen, she saw that the irises of his eyes were golden.
"Congratulations on the baby," said Jantzen formally. "I hadn't learnt of its birth. A boy or a girl?"
Lily narrowed her eyes at him. "Is this on the record or off?"
Jantzen smiled satisfactorily. "Whichever you want it to be. An exclusive would be magical for our sales..." he waved his hand in the direction of the windows. "People have seen you with two children in the Alley today, so you can be assured that if the news does not feature in Tiger Eye, it will feature in the Prophet, and the Prophet will rake in the galleons."
Lily ground her teeth.
"Apologies," said Jantzen. "I didn't mean to coerce you. It is just what I would do in your situation."
"She's a girl. I'll not tell you her name. It's bad enough hearing my son's name bouncing off the walls of the Alley whenever I come here."
"Understood. No feature, just a congratulatory mention in my weekly newsletter."
Lily nodded. "And my article?"
Without a word, Jantzen held out his hand expectantly.
Lily felt a twitch of nerves as she reached into her satchel and pulled out several bound sheets of parchment. Jantzen raised his eyebrows at lack of a scroll, but took the papers and read the title with anticipant curiosity.
Marco brought the ice creams over and Lily forced herself to eat hers.
"Mmm..." Jantzen mused after a minute. "This is brave of you, Mrs Potter."
Lily took a deep breath. "I don't mean to be controversial, but I think it's important."
"Oh, I agree. Your perspective is most valuable. Our readers will be fascinated."
Lily pictured Tiger Eye as a stall outside in Diagon Alley, with copies flying everywhere, witches and wizards pushing and shoving for a copy, lapping up Lily's article and scoffing with derision.
"You don't think I'm undermining the purebloods, do you?"
Jantzen seemed surprised by her question. "I'm a pureblood. I don't feel undermined."
"There are people who might..."
Jantzen smiled. "Those people do not buy our magazine. You're safe in the Tiger Eye community, Mrs Potter. We owe you and your husband a great deal. Many of our readership associate the Potters with Tiger Eye purely due to our mutual pro-muggle activism. Your article in our publication is a natural fit."
Lily nodded. "I want people to be open-minded. I don't want to create a divide."
"There's already a divide..." Jantzen spoke lowly, with a predatory smile. "People will believe whatever they want to believe. There's no changing their minds."
Lily jolted. "Then... why bother?" she asked, as calmly and inquisitively as she could manage. "Why write at all? Why run a magazine?"
Before she could begin to fear she had overstepped the line, Jantzen began to nod in understanding. "People want validation, Mrs Potter. Representation. Tiger Eye says to its readership that their liberalism is not in vain, and it is not singular. There is a society of witches and wizards who do not fear muggles, but fear the type of world blood purists would have us instate."
"So Tiger Eye is a church bell. A bugle call."
"Much of our readership are young, Mrs Potter. We aim to engage their minds before they've made them up."
That's indoctrination, thought Lily.
...But that's literature.
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2:30 PM
The Grettadam Chamber was once again a lecture hall, with a stout wizard whose name James didn't know giving a lecture on Auror Accountability In The Field. Etta Gamble was absent. James was disappointed. Gamble was slithery and irksome in training sessions but she was a compelling lecturer. This wizard was reaching new levels of dull.
James had given up listening. He sat at the back of the hall, on the highest bleacher, scribbling and doodling in the back of his textbook.
The Black Family: Andromeda Austria, Ted St Mungos, Dora Hogwarts. Ted's Parents? Narcissa cleared, Lucius cleared? Druella dead, Pollux?
The Lestrange Family: Rodolphus & Rabastan in Azkaban. Parents?
Iago Greengrass?
Walden Macnair?
Walter Crabbe cleared
Alberto Nott cleared
Barty Crouch Azkaban
Peter Pettigrew
James hoped Etta Gamble was rounding these men up, but doubted she was. He should have known, back in the war, to rip masks of faces.
The Death Eaters had been better at locating their targets than even the Ministry, who had copies of wizards' addresses and places of work.
How on Earth was Bellatrix surviving? Who was helping her, even now?
James had a theory that was uncomfortable to think about.
At the other end of the chamber, someone opened the door.
The trainees, previously half-asleep, sat bold upright. Since the attack on Valentine's family, they had been wary of visitors to the chamber.
A man in a beige rain-cloak strode purposefully into the light of the lecture space. The same man as before. He whispered to the lecturer.
The lecturer looked out at the obscure faces in front of him. "James Potter?"
A stone plummeted in James' stomach.
He stood, and grappled his way out of the pew. The messenger approached the steps.
In the man's hand was a small slip of paper.
What terrible thing was written on it?
James met the man half way up the steps with the other trainees watching worriedly.
The man passed James the slip of paper. "It's your wife, Sir. Come with me."
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12:30PM
Taking risks and reaping the rewards felt extraordinary now. Lily used to live this way, dutifully, and for the sake of others. The war had been full of risks. Like Russian roulette, surviving the risks of war was just that: surviving. But this- risking reputation to be a published writer- was like poker. Surviving the risk wasn't just survival. It was pleasure. It was success. It felt like firewhisky, warming her veins and drip-feeding energy to her muscles that needed to be worked.
She shopped. The extension charm in her rucksack permitted big splurges that she was unused to indulging in, but filling her bag with goods without it getting any heavier was addictive. After necessities- groceries, new clothes and blankets for the children, inks and parchment- she loosened up.
She spoiled James. New boots, a new cloak, sweets and cologne. She bought dresses and artwork and alcohol. She practically danced in and out of each shop with neither child complaining. Witches and wizards stared, but did not approach her. Look like you're on a mission, and they don't want to stop you, she realised. She wondered if the ice cream she'd had at Fortescue's had been laced with liquid luck.
She came to the apothecary. She liked apothecaries almost as much as she liked bookshops. She liked their smell of deterioration: of dried herbs and stale rags and decaying fungi. She liked the cloudiness and the dustiness and the dark. Apothecaries' windows were always dim to keep the oils from reacting to sunlight. She had read about the effects of sunlight in oil ingredients in a potions textbook at Hogwarts, and it had fascinated her. She would, she had vowed, cultivate her own potion ingredients one day.
The apothecary was empty. The gruff-looking wizard at the counter was decanting dried flowers into a jar as she approached.
"What're you after, Miss?" he asked her in a thick Cornish accent.
"Rose oil, three lumps of charcoal and a pot of earwigs, please."
"Certainly."
He reached behind him for the jar of dark wriggling creatures, and scooped out a small tub. He moved tiredly, but carefully, blinking slowly as his hands worked like mechanical contraptions. He filled a paper bag with coal and wrapped a vial of rose oil in gauze rags.
"That all?"
"I'd also like some wolfsbane potion."
He suddenly looked at her with repulsion.
She felt her good mood burst like a balloon.
"It's a full moon tonight," he said crossly. "Shouldn't you be at home?"
"It's not for me. Do you have any?"
"We don't sell it here." He pushed the items she'd asked for across the counter to her. "Five sickles."
She felt herself cringing away from his accusatory stare. "Do you have the ingredients for it in stock?"
"No."
She pushed her shoulders back, trying to ignore the heat rising in her cheeks. "I've bought the ingredients for wolfsbane potion here before."
"I don't sell them." He turned his back to her, concerning himself with dusting the jars on the shelf behind him. "You'll want Knockturn for that."
Affronted by his turning away from her, she ground her teeth, rummaged in her pocket for the money and dropped the sickles onto the counter. "I wasn't aware you had stopped supplying to werewolves. I'll make sure others know."
The man glanced over his shoulder at her as she took Harry's hand and walked out of the shop, but did not stop her.
Outside the apothecary, her merriness did not return. She was at the far end of the alley, adjacent to the turning into Knockturn Alley, where people did not linger and the shops were niche. The wind had picked up.
"Mummy..." said Harry, swinging her hand. "Cold."
Lily pulled her rucksack off her back and pulled out a velvet blue cloak that she'd bought for him minutes ago, and fastened it around his shoulders. He ran his hands up and down it, feeling the difference of velvet direction. As he entertained himself with the texture, Lily looked down Knockturn Alley with apprehension. It was in its usual gloomy, sooty, damp state with a handful of wizards at the far end lingering around, leaning against the walls, doing nothing. Not even moving. Lily could only see their sillhouettes. She looked away from them in case they were staring at her.
At the closer end of the alley, a young boy was sat on the alley floor, slumped against the wall of a shop, drumming his wand against his outstretched legs. He didn't look... Knockturn-ish. He looked like he should have been at Hogwarts, in fact. And he was alone.
Lily quickly felt the lining of her coat for her wand, and took a deep breath when she felt its reassuring presence there.
"Pssst..." she hissed. The boy did not turn.
"Pssst... Boy!"
The boy looked round at her with mild surprise. He pushed himself off the floor and walked towards her. He was tall and very slim, brooding, and his clothes were grimy. He couldn't have been more than a teenager.
She nodded in the direction of Knockturn Alley. "Come here often?"
The boy shrugged. "S'where the jobs are these days."
You don't look very employed, Lily thought.
"Would you like to earn five galleons?"
The boy seemed to wake up a little, but remained stone-faced. "Yeah."
No questions asked, Lily noted.
"I need a potion. Wolfsbane. Somewhere in Knockturn Alley sells it, but I can't go down there. It would be... an unwise place for me to be at the moment."
The boy glanced at the baby sleeping against Lily's chest. He nodded.
"What's the potion?" he asked her.
"Wolfsbane."
The boy chewed his cheek and looked downward. "Okay..."
Lily was already tired of people being uncomfortable with lycanthropy today. "Is that a problem?"
"No, Miss."
Lily felt her guard soften. "Good. Do you know where they might sell it in there?"
"S'only one apothecary in Knockturn, Miss."
Lily took out some money from her pocket. "What's your name?"
"Izaiah, Miss. Izaiah Zabini."
Lily raised her eyebrows. "Zabini?"
Izaiah nodded tensely. "For my sins, Miss."
She smiled at him, and he managed a half-smile in return. She handed him the money. "I'll be waiting here."
He gave her a blasé salute before skipping off into Knockturn Alley, jogging round the corner and disappearing from sight.
Left alone at this end of Diagon, Lily pulled Harry closer and her cloak tighter around herself.
She looked down the street towards the more populated part of the alley, busier now that it was lunch time. She saw a group of young wizards emerge from a shop carrying ice cream cones.
She smiled to herself. In a few days, strangers would be reading her article. She would appear in the Ministry Press' list of published writers. She was itching to write again. She would go home and re-visit her neglected novel. God, she couldn't wait to tell James... tell him about her career, Jantzen the yellow-eyed wizard, and the myriad things she'd bought her husband purely out of fun.
"What a sweet little thing!"
Lily re-focused and looked at the woman standing in front of her.
Emerging from Knockturn Alley was a dark-haired woman of no more than fifty, tall, slender, and gazing lovingly at the baby tied to Lily's chest.
The woman looked up at Lily's alarmed face and gave an embarrassed smile. "Sorry. I became a grandmother this week. I have babies on the brain."
"Oh," Lily smiled nervously. "Congratulations."
"Thank you!" the lady replied instantly, beaming. "Although, I should congratulate you! That is a very new baby."
The woman spoke with a strong Brummy accent, which took Lily back to her childhood, and the trips she would take with her mother and sister on the bus to Birmingham for the library. Lily, who grew up just outside the city, had lost her accent once they'd moved to London after her father's death. It was nice to hear it again.
Lily smiled and stroked Matilda's back. "A month old."
The lady noticed Harry beside Lily, and smiled at him knowingly. "The first venture out in public with two little ones is a little daunting, I seem to remember..."
The woman had a motherly face; big emotive dark eyes, worry lines and wispy fly-away hair. She dressed wealthy, but looked weather-worn. Lily could picture this woman with a whole herd of a family.
"Cushioning charms calm my nerves a little bit..." Lily had learnt from Alice Longbottom the art of the self-constructed sling and the subsequent vital cushioning charm. Neville and Harry had been warzone babies, but the habit of overdone precautions would never leave Lily.
"I had three boys. All rascals. You learn to loosen up."
Lily nodded assuredly. "This one's a girl."
The woman looked at the baby with such maternal longing, Lily almost asked her if she was alright.
"She'll be her father's heartbreak..." the woman looked at Harry. "And he'll be yours."
Lily suppressed her displeasure at the notion. She did not need to correct the woman. She already knew how James worshipped Harry in ways that traditionalists seemed to find soft. She also knew that Matilda had her heart on a string.
"Josie Burke," the woman extended her hand. "I own the antique shop in Knockturn."
Lily shook her hand. "Lily Potter."
The woman's face fell. "Excuse me?"
Lily's hand fell, and the woman's fist collided with Lily's jaw.
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A/N: Some time-fuckery in this chapter but oh well. S'how I pictured it.
Next chapter picks up immediately after this one, promiiiiiise
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